


Wet, Cold, and Dirty

by brightephemera



Series: Leif Surana [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Fighting, Gen, Mud, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27066703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightephemera/pseuds/brightephemera
Summary: Alistair and his friends fight werewolves in a muddy, muddy storm. Prompt fill for 700 Words* Fighting in ankle deep mud. (Setting: Original Campaign, Braecilian Forest)
Series: Leif Surana [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954573
Kudos: 5





	Wet, Cold, and Dirty

The roaring wind was bad, the cold rain was bad, the lightning’s intense yet possibly promiscuous interest in the nearby trees was very bad…but the mud was the worst.

Alistair used his voice to focus the werewolf fight on his shield rather than on Leif’s face. Leif was not his best friend. Some days he wasn’t sure she was his friend at all. But today she planted herself beside him and lashed elemental fury upon the pack of beast-men. And he stood still, because pulling his boots out of this mud was more than he cared to deal with.

The missing mastermind Witherfang was more than a wolf. It was a lord to these things. It controlled their coming and going, and it very specifically had decided to dislike Alistair and his companions. The werewolves had every advantage a slavering maniac could ask for: size, speed, ferocity, home field advantage. In return, Alistair had…spunk? And a crazy elf mage. And decent fighting skills, that wasn’t too arrogant to say.

“Alistair,” barked Leif. “Turn your shield toward me.”

After a week of wall-to-wall fighting, he knew better than to second-guess her. He let go his front guard and turned his shield toward her.

Okay, yes. In that respect, Leif counted as his friend in combat.

Suddenly the burden of his shield lift vanished. He turned only enough to see Leif out the corner of his vision, then stopped. His entire body was frozen, weightless yet fixed.

He _hated_ it when she did this.

Over the wall of his shield, a fury of frost sprayed past his trapped head and roared into the werewolves he had just been fighting. They swung their claws at his exposed side and slid off of Leif’s forcefield. Leif’s storm ripped among them, freezing and shattering. She must be using every ounce of energy she had.

Leif sent a followup cone of lightning, echoing the storm, savaging the attackers. Their other friends were coming from their skirmishes to join her. She stepped forward. He could see that she was walking on frozen mud.

She gestured with one hand. Alistair’s feeling returned to his arms and legs and nose. He stepped onto the higher, frozen ground, swung his shield up, and led the way to dispatch the last werewolves.

When he turned back, the coarse ice was melting and Leif was sagging around her staff. Leliana called her name and took her elbow. “You tried too much,” she said.

“It worked,” croaked Leif.

“If we spend one of you in each fight,” said Sten, “we would be gone in six battles.”

“Five?” said Alistair.

Sten grunted. “One for the dog.”

Fareth, coated nose to nethers in mud, barked happily.

The lightning struck further away. The storm was moving on. Alistair’s toes were freezing inside his armor, but the battleground Leif had fashioned was returning to the mud. Leif came up to confer with her dog. The others fell in line.

Alistair wanted to think about something other than mud. Unfortunately it had made itself the topic of everything in sight. “I spy with my little eye,” he muttered.

“Spy what?” said Sten.

Oh, this should be good. Alistair raised his voice from soliloquy levels. “Something beginning with M.”

“Morrigan?”

“Well, literally, yes, but no. —Morrigan. You got something on your back.”

She raised her voice without turning. For some reason her skirt was unsullied by mud. “Are you attempting humor again? I would rather speak with the werewolves.”

“No, I mean, mud, under your ribbon. It must be freezing.”

She felt for it. Alistair turned back to Sten. “You know, I wouldn’t mind seeing Leif and Morrigan work a bit out there.”

“Work for what?” said Sten.

“Oh, just a little exertion,” said Alistair. “In the mud.”

“But Leif already exerted herself nearly to her limits.”

“One on one, Sten.”

“Why would they fight one another? They are united to fight the Blight. Why would you watch this without intervening?”

“Mysteries for the ages,” Alistair said unhappily. “Come on, let’s find a tree that isn’t getting struck by lightning.”

“You can follow Leif and Morrigan,” suggested Sten. Alistair looked sidelong but the qunari’s expression never changed.


End file.
